


like starlight

by lanfan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, M/M, Multi, Yes Really, the daisuga doesn't come until later sadly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanfan/pseuds/lanfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Well, I am a stranger,” the owl said, because now owls could speak and that was far more comforting to Akaashi than anything else had been in the last few minutes of his life. </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	like starlight

**Author's Note:**

> i've always wanted to write a howl's moving castle-inspired AU for a ship and finally, bokuaka caught me in its grip. the premise is the same as hmc but there will be some changes, of course. i don't think you need to know/have seen/have read hmc to enjoy the fic so i hope you'll read it anyway! it was very fun to write akaashi in sophie's position because i think they share a lot of characteristics. however, although bokuto is only briefly in this chapter, writing a Bokuto who doesn't have a heart has been the most interesting thing for me by far. 
> 
> this fic will be updated once a month

Akaashi had never hated being the eldest sibling. Since he was a child, his parents had always talked about how his siblings would be destined for great things: marriage, magic, blessings, curses. But Akaashi had always been told his life would remain rooted in his father’s shop, watching over the family business. His job was to keep himself concrete as his brothers moved forward, because someone always had to stay behind. Akaashi accepted that, especially as he watched his siblings grow, the three of them only spread a year apart each. After Akaashi came Daichi, who from birth took after their father: sturdy, mature, honest. Ever since they were young, Daichi was always the person you rooted for, his hands permanently upturned to anyone in need, even if they offered nothing in return.

His youngest sibling, Oikawa, was Daichi’s opposite: willful, capricious, the kind of opulence that reminded you of a heavy perfume, invading the room until you couldn’t remember anything but that particular scent. His laugh was high and charming; the girls of their neighborhood spent days placing love letters on the shop’s doorstep that Oikawa accepted with the grace of the adored.  
  
Akaashi, however, had been born with an apathetic stare, punctuated with a mouth that seemed to permanently curve downwards, dimples hidden unless he smiled, all teeth, which was truly more of a grimace. He was blunt and dry; his frame was not lean like Oikawa’s or muscled like Daichi’s. He was all limbs and pale skin, shoulders consistently burned from working outside in their father’s garden. While Daichi built and Oikawa bloomed, Akaashi was entrusted with the special kind of immortality that older siblings received while being formed in the womb: responsibility.  
  
“ _Akaashi!_ Get out of that horrible little room and come say goodbye to me,” Oikawa whined from downstairs, sounding strangely out of breath. Akaashi could hear the rough thumps of Daichi bringing heavy pieces of luggage to the foyer. He counted five suitcases before jumping off his stool, carefully placing the calla lilles he had gathered that morning into a makeshift vase from one of his mother’s wine bottles. When he arrived downstairs he was immediately accosted by Oikawa, whose sunhat hit him square in the forehead with surprising force.  
  
“That’ll bruise, Oikawa.”  
  
“I’m going to miss you two so much!” Oikawa ignored him, lips cherry red from the sweets he had received in the mail this morning, sticky and soft, from a secret admirer. Their mother had hummed in delight at breakfast then made a particular comment Daichi’s way about marriage, which caused his brother to stammer and shovel food into his mouth until their father shushed her. No one had ever asked Akaashi about marriage. He hadn’t thought about it much himself, if he was being honest. The future was the flower shop, being the constant as Daichi worked in the capital and Oikawa started his apprenticeship. He was more than content with a life of calm mornings and hazy evenings, planting tulips around the garden until his parents passed the business on to him after they retired. “Honestly! Maybe I will make Professor teach me how to teleport so I can come visit—“  
  
“You can’t teleport,” Daichi said, sounding annoyed. Akaashi watched him shift his weight from foot to foot curiously; Daichi was frequently impatient, especially when it came to Oikawa, but never quite so fidgety. Akaashi patted the top of Oikawa’s hair even as the brown haired boy stood almost a whole head taller than him, despite the age difference. Oikawa at sixteen was taller than he or Daichi would ever be.  
  
“Who knows what you can learn,” Oikawa released Akaashi just to waggle his fingers in Daichi’s face. Akaashi had always thought magic was a perfect fit for Oikawa, just as wild as the boy himself. When he’d made a flower bloom in the palm of his hand last summer, their father had nearly fainted. But their mother! Their mother had rushed to the capital and found the best tutor, made Oikawa get tested and tested then tested again. That was when Oikawa found the Professor, an eccentric man of indeterminate age with an immaculate track record for being particularly picky with his students. The Professor (they’d never learned another name for him; first or last or invented or rumored) had agreed to take Oikawa under his wing if he agreed to certain rule: no outside communication, even to his own siblings. Just the thought brought a pang to Akaashi’s heart; Oikawa was the loudest of them all. The house already felt emptier as he said his goodbyes. Worst yet, Daichi was leaving to the capital to work under a businessman who was friends with their father, and so Akaashi lost both his confidantes in one day, left behind at the shop like he had always known would come.  
  
“Don’t fight,” Akaashi interrupted their bickering, still at the foot of the stairs. “Oikawa, don’t break the rules. Daichi, you’re allowed to visit so please do; I’ll look forward to hearing stories from both of you.”  
  
Both of them looked up at Akaashi and while he was not surprised at the tears that flooded Oikawa’s eyes, he was by the ones growing in Daichi’s.  
  
“ _Akaaaaaashi_ ,” Oikawa wailed, flying towards him again. Akaashi dodged, barely, and Oikawa clung to his arm instead.  
  
“We’ll miss you too,” Daichi smiled, watching their father grab the suitcases to take to the car, one heading north and the other south, leaving Akaashi in the deep east, between the mountains and the Waste. Daichi pulled the both of them in for a hug and Akaashi smiled, tucked between a blubbering Oikawa and a tight-lipped Daichi, until their father’s voice from outside told them to part.  
  
***  
  
Akaashi always found himself in odd situations, despite his reservations. Like now, with a woman knocking on the front door of the shop, begging to be let in despite the hour. He was the only one in the house and the echo of his siblings still lingered, even after a full month. His parents were at the capital visiting Daichi; Akaashi had offered to watch over the shop, despite a desire to see Daichi himself.  
  
“Please! I just need a flower!”  
  
_Maybe I just invite trouble_ , Akaashi thought to himself as he unlocked the shop door, peering outside. The girl was pretty enough; dressed in lace and puffs of tulle, hair elegantly coiffed around her chin. She looked like she’d just stepped out of a gala, gloves still stretched to her elbows.  
  
“What kind of flower?”  
  
“ _Any!_ Please oh please,” she wailed, shoving the door open. Akaashi jumped back, immediately wary. “I’m supposed to go to my cousin’s birthday but the _love of my life_ will be there. Right before my eyes! And this dress is so plain and what if she can’t see me because of the dress and I have to resort to—I don’t know! Tripping in front of her! And dying! You’re the only light that was on so! Please!”  
  
Yes, Akaashi always found himself in the oddest situations. And yet he watched her only for a brief moment before he pulled a lily from a vase near the back, bright yellow like her hair. She didn’t move, mouth open, as he reached over and pinned it to the top of her dress. She still didn’t move when he looked up beneath hooded eyes, nodding.  
“There. Please don’t come this late again.”  
  
“Oh,” she breathed, her left hand going up to clutch her necklace, a pretty string of pearls. “I—Of course. I’m sorry. This is beautiful, thank you.”  
  
“It’s my job,” Akaashi shrugged, ushering her towards the door. Maybe he’d still get eight hours of sleep, if he hurried. Akaashi without sleep was worse than any wayward magician out of the Waste, according to his mother. “Are you walking alone?”  
  
“It’s no problem,” she said, eyes wide. Akaashi wondered if maybe he’d scared her; he hadn’t done anything particularly different than usual…although Daichi told him sometimes his stare was a little to perceptive. Something about his eyes, heavy lidded but sharp.  
  
“I’ll walk you,” Akaashi said, pulling on a coat, even as she protested. “Is it far?”  
  
“Just a few minutes,” she squeaked and Akaashi nodded, locking the door behind them. They walked in silence, Akaashi enjoying the calm and the girl beside him clenching tufts of hair as they walked deeper into town.  
  
“I’m Yachi,” she blurted once the silence became suffocating (for her, perhaps) and he nodded, filing the name for the off chance he ever saw her again.  
  
“Akaashi Keiji,” he said and she relaxed, leaning closer to his side. Akaashi had never been one for close friends; he had acquaintances from school, people to borrow homework from or that he’d known since childhood. Iwaizumi, the local baker’s son, who had stuck to Oikawa’s side since they were kids but was fond of Akaashi as well. Kiyoko, who was Akaashi’s favorite friend, excelled at the art of companionable solitude. They spent most of their time together reading quietly beside one another, only commenting when they got to a particularly good part in their chapter of the day. But Yachi seemed like the kind of girl who made friends wherever she turned, even without meaning to, and Akaashi found himself charmed.  
  
“Thank you Akaashi,” she said, bowing slightly when they arrived at a noisy mansion, bustling with finely dressed men and woman. Akaashi wrapped his coat tighter around himself, hyperaware of the pajamas beneath. “My cousin will be so upset I’m late—he’s a stickler! Grumpy but very devoted,” she laughed and Akaashi smiled, nodding along. Yachi’s voice was not overly pleasant but consistent; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed company.  
  
“Good luck, Yachi. That flower will help,” he said, walking back into the alleyway as she waved, nearly bumping into an elderly couple as she did so. He laughed, a small, bright thing, and turned around to make his way back to the shop. The streetlights were barely lit; shadows bounced off Akaashi’s footsteps and spread onto the walls of the alley until they dissipated into the night sky.  
  
“That was really nice of you,” a voice said and Akaashi jumped, hands clutching the fabric around his heart. “But now you’re walking alone!”  
  
“Which would be fine,” Akaashi snapped, still trying to calm down his nerves. “If it wasn’t for people like you!”  
  
“Ah—Sorry! Sorry,” the voice said, appearing from the shadows as if he’d been melted along the wall. The first thing Akaashi noticed was that the man was _tall_ , perhaps not in height but in _hair_. It was bright white with black streaks, styled to point upwards like twin towers perfectly aligned with his golden eyes. He was wearing an outfit Akaashi immediately deemed as ridiculous: a white and gold blouse, tucked into tight-fitted pants that fell into long boots. Akaashi was getting exhausted just looking at him.  
  
“May I go?”  
  
“But I came out to walk you home,” the man protested, following even as Akaashi began to walk away. _Best to ignore people like that_ , he thought, even as the stranger followed a few steps behind, running his mouth.  
  
“It’s better not to walk home alone and I was in the neighborhood. I’m Bokuto! You’ve probably heard of me—“

“I haven’t.”  
  
That made Bokuto falter in his steps, smile disappearing. Even his hair seemed to droop mildly, the tips covering his eyes.  
  
“Are you serious? Bokuto! The wizard who lives in the Waste! I have a castle? It moves?”  
  
Akaashi had seen the castle before, truth be told. The shop’s balcony had a breathtaking view of the Waste, the fog clearing just enough in the afternoons for Akaashi to see the movement on the horizon as he watered the plants. But he wasn’t one for gossip and so, had never heard much about who lived inside it. Oikawa had mentioned before that the wizard who resided in it had no heart, having sold it off in a bargain for more power. Akaashi found it a little hard to believe the man physically wilting in front of him was missing any vital organ, let alone a beating heart.  
  
“I’ve seen it,” he answered carefully, watching Bokuto perk up faster than humanly possible, letting out a loud laugh that was surely going to wake up Akaashi’s neighbors.  
  
“I thought so! It’s impressive, right? Conjured it up myself—“  
  
“It’s a pile of junk,” Akaashi interrupted, voice somehow still low. Daichi had once told Akaashi he was too blunt for his own good; he’d yet to find that to be the case. Honesty was easier than being stuck outside for hours with some wizard who felt like showing off.  
  
“It’s _treasured_ junk,” Bokuto said, defensive. “Akaashi, I can tell you don’t do much adventuring.”  
  
“I have responsibilities,” he shrugged, walking up to his front door. A cursory turn of the knob showed it was already open. Had Akaashi forgotten to lock it? Bokuto lingered at the bottom, eyes suddenly full of mischief. Akaashi watched him warily then looked back at his door. He didn’t have _time_ for adventuring. The shop was what was important, not going on some magic quest like Bokuto seemed to be implying.

“Have a good night Bokuto,” Akaashi said when the man didn’t move, stepping inside.  
  
“I’m sure we’ll meet again, Akaashi!”  
  
_Silly_ , Akaashi thought to himself, as Bokuto pulled up the hem of his pants and nearly floated away, feet not making a sound against the cobblestone even in those stupid-looking boots. _I never told him my name_. Wizards were mysterious that way.

Closing the door and making sure the lock was secure, Akaashi took off his coat and let out a yawn. Eventful nights were not common occurrences for the boy, accustomed to being in bed before the moon hit its apex. Oikawa had always joked when they were younger that strange things happened at midnight; it was when the dust of magic that surrounded the Waste spread into every crevice of their small town, coating its residents in a warm glow. Before, Akaashi had thought that was nonsense. However, as he turned around and found _an owl_ looming on his work table, he thought perhaps Oikawa was right and this was the _last_ time he was staying up this late.  
  
The more he looked at it, the more he was sure this was all a dream. Akaashi didn’t dream very often but he figured perhaps the stress of the last few weeks was getting to him. Maybe the wizard—Bokuto—had slipped something into his subconscious? Could magicians do that? He wished Oikawa was sleeping in the room next door like he always had. Or his mother, who read books and scrolls on magic for her children. Or _anyone_ , who could look over at the desk and calmly go “Akaashi, wake up, nothing’s there”. But here he was, blinking and the owl blinking back at him. Suddenly, his irritation swelled, filling every space in his chest until he glared, hands on his hips.  
  
“If that is you, Stranger,” he said, taking a step forward and grabbing a broom from the corner of the room. He wielded it in front of him at an angle, ready to shoo the man out and be done with it. “I’m going to hit you until you leave.”  
  
“Well, I am a stranger,” the owl said, because now owls could speak and that was far more comforting to Akaashi than anything else had been in the last few minutes. Its wings shook and from the feathers came fingers, long and thin. The dim lighting of the shop was punctuated by green eyes, almost translucent, reminding him of wildflowers and weeds overflowing in the garden. He watched the change with a fist clenched around his throat until something like a man emerged from the snowy owl pelt, shuddering into place. It looked both human and ghostly, an afterthought painted onto his father’s walls. Yet, Akaashi knew if he touched it, the creature would be solid.  
  
“Bokuto seems to have taken a liking to you,” it said when Akaashi remained silent, head cocked. Its blonde hair still ruffled like feathers, framing a sneering face. Akaashi held the broom tighter.  
  
“I—“  
  
“It wasn’t a question,” it tutted, pulling glasses from his pant pocket and huffing hot air onto them. The creature took its time wiping the lenses down and Akaashi got impatient, foot tapping.  
  
“The shop is closed. Please leave.”  
  
“Bossy,” it crooned, voice rising to a cackle. “Here’s a lesson in politeness.”  
  
Akaashi opened his mouth but no words spilled out, the thing’s hand suddenly enclosed around his neck. He felt each finger press against his jugular and then push through, completely transparent, blending into his skin until Akaashi could feel himself burning from the inside out, skin ripping open. He tried to scream but couldn’t, dropping the broom in his haste to claw the thing off him. However, he couldn’t get a grip on something that seemed to exist on another plane than him, only painfully human, and so he dangled quietly until he was released, collapsing onto the floor.  
  
“The best part about this curse is you can’t tell anyone,” it whispered before evaporating into the ceiling. The only reminder of its existence was the gasps leaving Akaashi’s mouth, wet and heaving.  
  
_I’ve had enough adventure to last me the rest of my life_ , he thought desperately, wondering if perhaps even Yachi had been a part of his night orchestrated by this Bokuto, who had had him assaulted in his own home. Assaulted—Akaashi couldn’t feel any bruises. A cursory brush of his fingers against his neck brought another gasp to the tip of his tongue. _Feathers_.

He rushed to the mirror, avoiding the broom despite his haste, and watched as a face only vaguely familiar looked back at him.  
  
“I’ve got to stay calm,” he breathed, as feathers poked out of his entire neck like an owl’s, light and fluffy. His hair was entirely feathered; his pupils blown out of proportion to his dark brown irises, curved and narrow.  
  
“I’ve got to stay calm,” Akaashi repeated, patting down his cheeks and finding the skin rough and textured. Magic, certainly. Not the kind that Oikawa had started learning in their backyard, all flowers and flying across their rooftop, but the ones you heard about in hushed tones at the market by two old woman sharing secrets. The kind that Akaashi had spent most of his life avoiding, for the sake of his sanity.  Waste hexes, which took a powerful magician to fix, rarer than the curses themselves. Akaashi picked at the plumes of his hair and sighed, permanent frown still set on his stubborn mouth, even as it pinched upwards like a bird’s beak.  
  
_I’m definitely not getting eight hours of sleep tonight._

**Author's Note:**

> am totally not sorry for making tsukishima the witch of the waste


End file.
